Darry's Side
by Darby Laner
Summary: The chapter of THe Outsiders in which Pony and Johnny fall asleep in the lot, Darry hits Pony, and Pony runs away. I did this for a school project, and I rewrote it from Darry's point of view. I do not own The Outsiders or any of the characters in it.


I paced the floor, imagining the worst. What if he'd been jumped? If anything had happened to him, I'd never forgive myself.

"What could he be doing?" I muttered, peering through the window for the umpteenth time.

"Dunno," Soda said sleepily, stifling a yawn, "but if you pace around much longer, you'll wear a track into the floor." I grunted in response. "If he ain't back soon, I'm going looking for him."

"We'll give him ten more minutes," I agreed, flopping down in the old armchair under the lamp, hoping that it wouldn't be ten minutes too late. "If we can't find him then, we'll have to call the cops." Soda nodded sleepily and stretched out on the worn sofa, and he was out like a light in seconds. I picked up the newspaper from the floor where I had thrown it earlier that morning during breakfast. I barely took in anything I was reading; my mind kept wandering back to Ponyboy.

Pony knew better than to be walking alone at night, especially after getting jumped yesterday. Then again, he never was much for thinking, always going right into things. Now and then I just wished he would use his head so he wouldn't end up like Mom and Dad! I sometimes wondered if he knew how much worry he caused me and Soda. I think if he did, he'd try to think a little more. As I absentmindedly turned the page of the newspaper, images of Johnny after he had been jumped played in my head like scenes in a horror movie: blood, bruises, groans of pain . . . I shivered, praying that Pony wasn't hurt.

Just then, I heard the clunk of tennis shoes on the porch. The doorknob turned as Ponyboy stepped inside, looking extremely guilty.

I stood up quickly, tossing the newspaper aside. Pony stood there, chewing his fingernail, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Where the heck have you been? Do you know what time it is?" Now that he was back and safe, I felt all of my relief transforming into anger. Ponyboy shook his head. "Well, it's two in the morning, kiddo. Another hour and I would have had the police out after you. Where were you, Ponyboy?" My anger peaked. "Where in the almighty universe were you?"

Pony's eyes were wide, and he stammered, "I . . . I went to sleep in the lot . . ." He had a little crease in his forehead that he always got when he was mad at me.

"You what?" I shouted. Hadn't Johnny's incident taught him anything? He had been a sitting duck, just waiting for a bunch of Socs to pile out of their Corvairs and slit his throat!

Soda sat up, rubbed his eyes, and said sleepily, "Hey, Ponyboy, where ya been?"

"I didn't mean to," Pony pleaded. He was getting angry now, too, but not as mad as me. I was furious. "I was talking to Johnny and we both dropped off . . ." Johnny had been there, too? I thought that him out of all of us would've had enough sense to at least come back to the house; I guess I had made a few false assumptions.

"I reckon it never occurred to you that your brothers might be worrying their heads off and afraid to call the police because something like that could get you two thrown in a boys' home so quick it would make your head spin." I could never have let that happen. No matter how often Pony refused to use common sense and how many times Soda stood up for him, I would die before I let them go to a boys' home. We were all the family we had left. "And you were asleep in the lot? Ponyboy, what on earth is the matter with you? Can't you use your head?" I noticed his arms were covered in goosebumps, and his lips looked a little blue. "You haven't even got a coat on."

"I said I didn't mean to . . ." Pony's eyes were starting to fill with tears of frustration.

"I didn't mean to!" I shouted, and Pony flinched. "I didn't think! I forgot!" Every ounce of worry and exasperation I had held inside came pouring out then. "That's all I hear out of you! Can't you think of anything?"

Soda was staring at me with concern and fear in his eyes. "Darry . . ." he started, but I wouldn't be stopped. I couldn't have if I wanted to.

"You keep your trap shut!" I exclaimed. "I'm sick and tired of hearin' you stick up for him." I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. I knew Soda was just trying to calm me down. Pony doted on Soda, and so did I. I had never, _ever_ yelled at Soda. But tonight had just been the last straw.

"You don't yell at him!" Pony screamed, his face starting to turn red.

I just turned around and slapped Pony across the face hard enough to knock him into the door. I stopped cold, and so did the world. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion. Soda's eyes were huge, and I imagined mine were, too. Pony shot me a look of something like hate, and I felt like he had just stabbed me in the heart, even though I'd been the one to hit him. I'd never hit Soda or Pony; neither of them had ever hit me or each other. I felt my hand start to sting and turn red from the force of the blow.

I looked up at my youngest brother. "Ponyboy . . ." But it was too late. He ran out the front door into the night. Because of me. Because I'd hit him. I sprinted to the door and onto the porch. I took the steps three at a time, but Pony was too fast -- the best on the track team, he'd said, and I'd been so proud of him. "Pony, I didn't mean to!" I screamed after him. He didn't reply, just kept running, the streetlights staining his back a dull orange. I thought I could hear him crying, but it could've just been my imagination.

I fell to my knees on the sidewalk, and the tears started coming before I could stop them. I tried to wipe them away as I heard Soda step slowly, numbly onto the sidewalk behind me, but he set his hands on my shoulders.

"It's OK, Darry," he said quietly. "you can cry if you need to, I won't tell no one." I reached up and held his hand like I was about to fall off a cliff and he was there to pull me back up. I could've died right then and there for all the horrible things I'd done to my brothers that night. "I know you didn't mean to."

I just put my face in my hands and yelled -- the only thing I felt that I could do other than cry -- wondering if Pony would ever forgive me.


End file.
